


pour forms and reshape

by brawlite



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Body Worship, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Distended stomach, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Established Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Feeding, Maybe? who knows, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Other, Overstimulation, People is Comfort Food, Restraints, Stuffing, Tentacles, but murder of bad people so it's okay, now fuck about it, surprise eddie: you like eating people!, venom makes eddie admits some Truths about himself that he's not too ready to face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 17:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17729528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawlite
Summary: Eddie just woke up.It's the middle of the night and Venom is holding Eddie against the brick wall of an alley. There's two dead bodies nearby and Eddie's mouth tastes like blood.He's so,sofull.





	pour forms and reshape

**Author's Note:**

> **dubcon notes & general warnings**: for anyone concerned about the dubcon tag, or for any other general warnings about this trash heap, please see the end notes.

_**You like it, Eddie.** _

The brick wall scratches rough against the thin fabric of his cotton shirt.

Last Eddie remembers, he’d been sleeping. Or -- he’d been going to sleep, all tucked in and cozy in his bed, soft cotton of his sheets pulled taut around his legs, late-night infomercials playing on a soft volume from the television by the couch.

Now, _this._

“No, I --” Eddie is dizzy. He starts, twitching, as his brain tries to catch up with reality, like a record skipping in time.

Venom brought him here. Venom curled around him, tucked Eddie carefully inside, and deposited him here, in this alley. Eddie’s internal clock isn’t great, but it’s gotta be at least three in the morning. The smell of diesel and seawater tells him he’s near the Central Waterfront. There’s the taste of blood, too, getting stronger with every second he becomes more aware.

“I --” Eddie tries again.

His voice is rough. The first words he says after transformation, after Venom unwraps itself from Eddie’s vocal cords, are always raspy. Raw.

It's made a little better with the blood still in his throat, coating it like honey. A balm.

_**There's no use in lying to me, Love.** _

Eddie closes his eyes.

He takes a breath. Assesses his situation.

He's in an alley, Venom holding him up against the wall, his toes dangling at least five feet off the ground. He's in his sleep clothes -- a threadbare tee from Zion National Park and blue flannel pajama pants. His feet are bare, but not cold. (He's never cold anymore, not with Venom circulating constant, nuclear heat through his veins.)

_**I know you, Eddie. There are no secrets between us.** _

There are two dead bodies not even a few yards away. There’s blood pooling around them, black and thick in the low light of the night. It looks like oil, almost. Darker than the ground around it.

There’s blood in his throat, too, human flesh in his gut. It sits weighty inside him, leaving him full. Leaving him heavy.

Leaving him _hard_.

There's really no point in trying to hide _that_ , not when his cock is straining against the thin fabric of his pants. There's really no hiding much from Venom. Even fifty layers wouldn’t do Eddie a lick of good.

_**You hunger for these moments**_.

“I really don't,” Eddie tries, though his voice comes out strained. It tastes like a lie on his tongue, oily and astringent and bitter.

He squirms with the discomfort of it. Or maybe he squirms because Venom’s rolling one of its tendrils against thin flannel. Pressing the weight of it against Eddie’s cock, teasing him.

_**We have consumed the unworthy. We have ingested the evil of this world, and now we are full of it. It feeds us, sustains us. And it pleases us.** _

Eddie swallows. He bites down on his cheek to keep from whining at the undulating pressure against his dick, thick but too yielding. It’s what he needs, what he wants -- but it’s not enough. With the blood in his mouth and on his brain, it’s not _nearly_ enough.

_**It pleases you, Eddie.** _

It doesn’t. It _can’t_.

But Eddie doesn’t know how to _make_ himself feel sickened at knowing he’s full of meat, of flesh, of warm and syrupy blood. He doesn’t know how to stop pushing his tongue against soft palate to ease out more of the metallic, brackish taste. He doesn’t know how to make himself stop hungering for it. There is saliva growing thick in his mouth and pooling beneath his tongue.

(It’s something they’ve never really _talked_ about before. Something that Eddie’s never particularly wanted to dwell on.)

Venom pushes one of its tendrils over the swell of Eddie’s stomach. His skin heats at the contact.

_**You are full. You are sated. And -- you are pleased that I’ve given you this opportunity. That I’ve provided for you, like you provide for me.** _

Eddie squirms. The brick scratches against his shoulders, against his tailbone. His feet kick out at nothing, still suspended feet off the ground. His hips rut against Venom’s tendril, wanting and desperate -- and then at the air, after Venom shifts away, likely just to see Eddie squirm.

_**Do you like your gift, Eddie?** _

Eddie turns his head back to the bodies. He wants to blame Venom for the movement, for _making_ him look, but he knows he can’t. Eddie’s hunger is the culprit here, his intrigue. He can’t tear his eyes from the bodies, from the blood, from the pieces of them that are missing that are now inside of him.

When Eddie nods, it’s a sharp thing. Abrupt and short, like if he thinks too long about it, he won’t be able to admit it. Even though, deep down, he knows he doesn’t need words between the two of them, doesn’t need gestures. Venom knows Eddie, inside and out. There’s nothing sacred or private between them, nothing Eddie could keep to himself, even if he wanted to. Not that it even occurs to him, anymore.

Before, in the beginning, there had been an adjustment period. Now, once all the dust has settled, Eddie knows the true truth of it: he is only now, with Venom, whole. He is not one consciousness sharing his body with another; he and Venom are irrevocably intertwined. All of the fragments that make up Eddie Brock have been altered, replaced, rewritten.

If Venom were to leave, if it were to be ripped from Eddie again, he’s not sure he’d survive the reckoning.

_**Tell me you like it.** _

Venom rolls the tendril over the fullness in Eddie’s gut again, _reminding_ him. Not allowing him to forget what sits in his stomach: the treat Venom gave him. Eddie can’t help but gasp. Heat washes over him as he focuses on the touch, on the stretch of his slightly bloated stomach. He looks down and _watches_ , attention rapt, as Venom’s tendril pushes up the fabric of Eddie’s shirt and slides over the swell of pale flesh.

“I like it,” Eddie says, voice raw and wrecked, even to his own ears. “I like it.”

Venom purrs in response, a delightful sound that ripples straight down Eddie’s spinal cord, to the tips of his toes so far away from the ground. It shifts, rewarding Eddie by giving him something to rut up against with an easy shift of his hips. Eddie takes the opportunity eagerly, grinding against the welcome relief that Venom has provided, dick aching and hard, and gasps at the relief of it.

“God, Venom,” Eddie says, licking his lips only to find blood there.

_**You are beautiful, my love.** _

Suddenly, Venom’s head is right there next to him, close enough that Eddie can feel the heat of it, Eddie’s very own body temperature, radiating off its sleek and dark surface. Its tongue darts out, sliding wet and slick over Eddie’s cheek, over his ear, down his neck. There’s blood there, too. Eddie can taste it as Venom does, a transference, an echo. His mouth waters, thirsty. Wanting.

“Venom,” Eddie breathes, even though the sound feels more like a whine.

Venom presses against Eddie’s stomach again, tender. Reverent.

Eddie’s hips still slightly as Venom caresses him. Like he’s mesmerized by the movement, by watching tentacles map out the shape of Eddie’s full stomach. Like Eddie can’t stop thinking about what’s inside him, what’s filling him up and stretching him out.

Lungs, liver, pancreas -- all of it had been soft underneath Venom’s tongue, decadent and rich as it bit in and tenderized. Eddie thinks of the way Venom’s teeth, sharp and multitudinous, had torn so easily into flesh, and how that flesh had yielded, even easier, to a warm and giving flow of blood over its palate. He loses himself in the sense memory of it, eyes shifting closed, remembering without remembering, the way Venom had thought of Eddie, protected and safe inside of it, as it had consumed for the two of them. As it had provided.

Venom’s not wrong about it being a gift.

Because there’s no denying that while Eddie enjoys it, that enjoyment is twisted and knotted with barbs of guilt, of remorse, of shame. He knows that the heart of it is fundamentally _wrong_ , that consuming the flesh of your species, no matter moral sum or figure, is something hideous, something that should bring bile up instead of hunger.

But Eddie is not _quite_ human. Not anymore.

Even then, though, he has trouble reconciling decades of ethical conditioning with his own knowledge that he is doing the world a greater good. Of knowing that he is _above_ human law, above human mortality. He would never admit to that out loud. Would never say that he _wanted_ it. Just that he’s helping Venom. That he’s _putting up_ with some of the more mediocre aspects of cohabitation.

When in reality, Eddie is so thankful for all of it.

Even the parts that leave the taste of human blood on his tongue.

Maybe even _especially_ those parts.

Particularly when they’re coupled with _this_. With Venom getting Eddie feeling filthy and desperate up against a wall in an alley in the middle of the night, miles away from his apartment. With Venom running one of those sweet tendrils over Eddie’s cock while smoothing simultaneously over the fullness of bested evil resting in Eddie’s belly.

Venom’s tongue slithers down the side of Eddie’s face and then meets Eddie’s lips, licking over them like it’s hungry, like it’s savoring the remnants of Eddie’s last meal.

_**You feel so good like this, Eddie. So full, yet so wanting. Tell me, what do you want, Eddie?** _

As if Venom doesn’t already know the answer to that.

One of its tentacles pulls Eddie’s pants down around his thighs, exposing him to the brisk night air. Eddie’s cock is hard and leaking at the tip. Now that he has nothing to rock up against, he’s aching with need, arching his back against the wall and whining in his blood-coated throat.

_**Tell me, Eddie.** _

A tentacle snakes around Eddie’s balls and teases, tugs. Eddie gasps.

“Need you,” Eddie says, and tries not to think of the dead bodies only a few yards away. Tries not to think of the blood on the ground and in his stomach.

_**Again.** _

“Need you, please,” Eddie says.

He squirms against the wall where Venom holds him, and his begging must be enough because Venom relents slightly, wrapping a tendril around his dick in a loose hold. It’s not _enough_ , but it’s a brief taste of relief and Eddie melts with it, a low gasp slipping from his lips. Venom’s form isn’t _necessarily_ wet or slick, but it’s also strangely _similar_ to those things, and its touch always leaves Eddie shuddering, shivering, wanting more.

_**You are so good, Eddie.** _

Eddie groans.

Venom grips him a little tighter. Tugs on Eddie’s dick just to coax more precome out of the tip. To get him feeling impossibly _harder_. To get him squirming, opening his legs a little wider. Asking without asking.

_**Do you enjoy when I feed you? When I indulge you?** _

Eddie nods. “Yeah, god -- yeah, I do.”

_**I like it too. I like your satisfaction.** _

Venom rumbles in delight. The sound vibrates through Eddie’s bones like the bass line of a song played too loud, through his ribcage, up his spine, and into his skull. Loud, echoing, exhilarating.

_**Feels good.** _

Venom strings the last words out in Eddie’s head and strokes over his dick a little harder, working up into a rhythm that _finally_ feels like it’s going somewhere.

“Venom, _please,_ ” Eddie says, fingers clutching at what parts of Venom he can touch.

Venom pushes more out of Eddie’s skin and grasps at his hands, holding them, tendrils intertwining with Eddie’s fingers, mirroring the shape of human hands. With little effort at all, Venom presses Eddie’s arms back against the brick, leaving him splayed and open against the wall. On display for Venom, for the world, for the two dead bodies nearby.

_**Greedy, Eddie. You want so much.** _

A shiver of shame cascades down Eddie’s back, even though he knows Venom’s just telling him what he wants to hear. Because Eddie _does_ want so much, but partially because Venom wants to _give_ so much. It’s a feedback loop that Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of.

“Venom, please, I need -- _please_.” He doesn't even know what he's asking for. Just _more_.

_**You want to be fuller?** _

Venom slides a tendril over Eddie’s stomach, pushing down a little to remind Eddie just how stuffed he is, meat sitting heavy and warm in his gut.

Eddie groans with it, suddenly feeling fuller with the pressure. Vividly, he imagines Venom giving him _more_ , filling him up from the inside, out. Fucking him full.

Suddenly he wants nothing more.

Hell, he _needs_ it.

“God, please, _please_.”

_**If you insist.** _

Venom wastes no time ferociously teasing Eddie any more today. For that, Eddie’s glad. He doesn't think he could take too much more waiting. He feels like he could die from sheer desire alone.

One of Venom’s tendrils snakes behind Eddie’s balls and slides over the heat of him, pressing against his hole, testing. They do this often enough that Eddie is used to the pressure, to opening up to Venom in this way, but every time it feels just as good as the first. Just as exhilarating. Just as alien.

It hurts, a little bit, as Venom pushes upward, breaching Eddie without hesitation, without reprieve. But Eddie _wants_ that, likes the pain, _needs_ the bite of it, and Venom gives it to him just right. They share the sensations, the desire, all of it.

“God, yes, fuck, _please_ ,” Eddie begs, immediate relief washing over him as Venom slides in and _in_ , until it’s about the average size of a human dick inside Eddie.

Not that Venom has ever settled for _average_.

(Not that Eddie settles for average, now that he’s got Venom.)

Eddie’s moans echo in the alley around them as Venom pushes in deeper. Venom isn’t slippery, isn’t slick -- but it _feels_ like it, with the way it slides against Eddie’s muscle, as it slithers inside him. The tentacle writhes and pushes against Eddie’s walls, expanding and pushing outward, dragging just enough against his rim that there’s a hint of pain, just enough to keep Eddie gasping. Just enough to ache.

Eddie grabs tighter at Venom’s hands, clenching at them like he’s holding on for dear life.

Venom thrums in amusement, in affection, and then pushes Eddie even tighter up against the wall, until the brick scrapes rough against Eddie’s skin, scratching just right. Reminding him that he’s held here, restrained -- as if he could ever forget. (They both know he likes it, likes feeling a little helpless. It’s something Venom has no problem taking advantage of at any given opportunity.)

_**You are all mine, Eddie.** _

“I know, god -- I know.”

Venom twists inside him, pressing in against Eddie’s prostate until Eddie can feel his dick dripping, leaking with how good it feels. It’s always so much, Venom teasing him like this, making his cock dribble with every push against that spot inside him. The pleasure heats up all of his nerves, body going hot, blood boiling inside his veins.

_**Tell me what you want.** _

“More,” Eddie pleads, feeling greedy, feeling full.

Venom slips another inch inside him, thickening out, stretching Eddie even more. Eddie can feel Venom writhing inside him, stuffing him up even more.

_**Like this?** _

When Eddie looks down, he sees his stomach, swelling with their meal. He sees his lower abdomen distended, packed with evidence of their union.

He knows he doesn’t have to worry about Venom hurting him. Venom can do anything for Eddie, can break him and make him whole. If it wanted, if Eddie wanted, it could rebuild Eddie’s body from the ground up, could rework him anew. There’s no need to fear, but there is the shock of seeing himself, so full to bursting.

It sends a new wave of heat over him, dizzying, heady.

“More,” Eddie says.

Venom laughs, deep and rippling, surround-sound in Eddie’s head.

It licks a stripe up Eddie’s cheek, and then thumbs over Eddie’s lower lip, teasing.

_**Whatever you want, Eddie.** _

And then Venom’s tentacle plunges inside Eddie’s mouth, like a tongue, like a cock, like everything Eddie has ever needed.

Eddie chokes, _gags_ , groans, as his hips buck against the tentacle still tugging at his dick. It’s so _much_ , all of Venom filling him up, stretching him out so much that he feels like he might break.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

Pleasure resonates through Eddie’s body, cascading down all of his nerves.

It’s so _much_. Almost too much, just the sight of himself, like this.

He moans Venom’s name, but Eddie’s mouth is full, so the words get stuck around Venom’s inky mass, muffled into his very essence.

_**Come for me, Eddie.** _

Venom thickens inside him, pressing up against Eddie’s prostate in vibrating waves. Its tentacle fucks Eddie’s mouth, pressing down against Eddie’s tongue until saliva drips down his chin, onto the thin fabric of his shirt. Then, it brushes a tendril over Eddie’s stomach, so goddamn _gentle_ , so fucking _tender_ , like Eddie’s a treasure Venom can’t help but cherish.

Eddie doesn’t stand a goddamn chance.

His pleasure crescendos, louder and louder, until it breaks. Until _Eddie_ breaks, spilling himself over into Venom’s tendril, entire body shaking with it, nerves alight and aflame.

Eddie gasps around the mass of Venom on his tongue, choked and muffled, until Venom dissolves it; the tentacle in his mouth and throat sinks quickly back into Eddie’s body, leaving him breathing heavy, panting for breath as Venom fucks the aftershocks out of him. It rolls against his prostate until Eddie’s cock drips even _more_ , until he’s nearly crying with the feeling of it, tears burning at his eyes, spit pooling in his mouth as he tries to catch his breath.

Venom never really lets him come down from it.

Like that, crying out in the dark alley, Venom works another orgasm out of Eddie.

Venom writhes so perfectly inside him that all Eddie can do is hold on to Venom’s hands and ride through it, white-hot pleasure washing over him as he comes again, spilling himself into greedy, waiting tendrils. Some of his spunk hits the ground below them, mixing with the blood that’s slowly growing around the bodies.

Venom lowers him down until Eddie’s bare feet rest on solid ground. The tips of his toes land in the blood and a full-body shudder takes him. Venom’s tendrils brush over his skin, tender and affectionate. Eddie feels full, feels _happy_. Feels complete.

Eddie sags against the wall, rough brick scratching through his shirt. The coarseness of reality starting to creep in, not unpleasantly, at the seams.

“ _Venom_ ,” Eddie breathes.

_**My love.** _

**Author's Note:**

>  **dubcon notes & general warnings**:  
> 1\. venom eats people while eddie is unaware. eddie wakes up and is confronted by two dead bodies, as well as the knowledge that he has consumed human meat.  
> 2\. eddie is into it, but is afraid to admit it. venom makes him admit it.   
> 3\. venom also overstimulates eddie into a second orgasm. it's a good time had all around.
> 
> **other notes** :  
> 1\. i wrote this while i was sick, from a prompt i got a while ago. i'm still not sure what exactly happened here.   
> 2\. i am trying this thing where i write all my trash in comic sans. the experiment so far: a huge success. so, if you can, please imagine what you read entirely in comic sans and let that wash over you.   
> 3\. a big thank you to [@ktula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktula/pseuds/ktula) for looking this over for me.  
> 4\. title from mudvayne's _mercy, severity_.  
> 5\. as someone with some weird food issues, this was a _trip_ to write. 
> 
> if social media's your thing: [twitter](https://twitter.com/brawlite) \- [tumblr](http://brawlite.tumblr.com/) \- [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/brawlite)


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